Tasting Skye
by MissAnnThropic
Summary: Dean no longer had his boy to protect, but maybe, in the presence of another with a similar duty, he could still feel like a guardian.


Title: Tasting Skye

Author: MissAnnThropic

Spoilers: set in the Skyeverse (surrounding my fic "Wild by Skye")

LiveJournal: miss_annthropic(dot)livejournal(dot)com

Summary: Dean no longer had his boy to protect, but maybe, in the presence of another with a similar duty, he could still feel like a guardian.

Timeline: See the last chapter of "Wild by Skye" for a chronological listing of Skyeverse fics to know where exactly this falls in the timeline. Or, you know, just read the fic and figure it out! Or eat pie. I know which one Dean would vote for.

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(

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Dean Winchester used to know exactly what it meant to be Dean Winchester. He knew who and what he was. There was no doubt, no uncertainty. It was simple.

And then Sam left, furious and resolute, disavowing the life that Dean had embraced like a lifeline since a fateful house fire took their mother. It was the way of life that Dean had made the meaning of being Winchester, and Sam wanted nothing to do with it anymore. To Dean, it was like Sam didn't want to be a Winchester anymore.

Then there was John, stubborn and proud to a freaking fault, who wouldn't even talk about the youngest Winchester. As if ignoring it meant the rebellion never happened. Maybe John could cut Sam out like a lodged bullet and walk away, but Dean couldn't. He couldn't, and he couldn't even tell his dad how twisted and bloody he felt inside because John didn't want to hear it.

Every time Dean looked up and saw only his father, never Sam where his geeky little brother should be, Dean wanted to yell. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to stop whatever else they were doing, go to California, drag Sam back by the scruff of his neck, and _make_ them be a family again. But Sam didn't want that, and John didn't either. Only Dean did, and Dean had learned that fighting one of them was hard but fighting both of them just impossible.

So Dean went off on his own just to be away from the god-awful silence that screamed Sam's name. Rather than hate every second pretending to not notice the gaping _hole_ by his side, instead of biting his tongue every time he looked his father in the eye because John had screwed up royally and deserved to be told so, Dean left. It was the only way he didn't feel like he would outright explode. He told his father he needed time on his own, picked up his stuff and the keys to the Impala, and for the first time was really on his own.

And suddenly, Dean realized he had no idea who he was.

Since he was four, he had defined himself in terms of his father and his brother. Between the two of them and the expectations they had of Dean, there was plenty of grist for definition.

But alone, cut off from his family, Dean didn't know who he was anymore. He felt lost and confused.

And then there was Skye.

Dean found himself staring at her. A lot. She was a knock-out, sure, but it wasn't just that. Skye was self-possessed. She didn't doubt or question herself. She was sure of everything that made her Skye Lauchlan.

It was a certainty Dean used to have about himself, a self-assuredness he knew now had been a house of cards. Take away the King and the Jack and the house toppled.

Skye was not a toppled house, and he longed to be like her. Confident.

Never before in his life would Dean have described himself as insecure, but he carried within him the open wound that had been ripped into him by a family torn apart. He didn't trust in any of the things he used to count as sacrosanct.

It was an uneasy, uncertain time for the Winchester family.

He did what he could to distract himself, first with hunting and lately, to his growing captivation, with Skye. She was such an easy distraction to fall into, too. Dark, silky hair. Rich brown eyes. A rocking body. And fire, so much passion and dogged determination crammed into such a small package. And then that indescribable air about her, an unnamable energy to her that Dean couldn't put his finger on, but it made her different. Drew him to her, like a moth to a flame.

"Dean?"

Dean blinked, embarrassed to discover he'd been watching her, lost in the fine details of her, across the table at Tanya's Diner and completely missed what she had been saying.

"Ummm…" Dean tried to think of something he could say that would suggest he'd been listening. He was drawing a complete blank.

Skye arched an eyebrow at him, looking so pointedly and knowingly at him that Dean actually started to blush, then she spared him further adolescent squirming when her lips twitched in a smile. Dean tried to will away the pink in his cheeks; not since he was twelve had he been so flustered by the opposite sex. Not Dean Winchester, Mr. Smooth Operator. The goofy mooning thing was more Sam's gig.

If only Sam could see his big brother now.

Dean smiled back at Skye ruefully. "Sorry."

Skye shook her head faintly as she cast her gaze down at the table top. Then she brought her eyes up to look at him, and she _really_ looked at him. It always made Dean feel naked when Skye looked at him like that, even if he was wearing layers.

The old Dean, the Dean Winchester who had Sam and John at his back, would have been laying on the smooth lines and cool dude moves, but now that suave persona translated into Dean staring right back at Skye. She had a way of staring _through_ him, making Dean feel like she could see past all his facades and masks. He wondered if Skye was just that good or he just that shaken by the Winchester family's implosion.

It didn't matter, because the effect was the same.

He wondered how long they would have looked silently at each other if the diner owner, none other than Tanya herself, hadn't approached their table with two plates bound for the pair. She was a kindly-looking older woman whom Dean had heard often teasing and joking with her employees. Seemed like a pretty cool old lady.

"Here you go, Skye," Tanya said with a friendly smile as she set a plate in front of her.

Skye smiled up at her. "Thanks, Tanya."

Tanya, for the moment completely ignoring Dean, asked with a voice full of concern, "How is the search going?"

Skye's smile faltered. "Not great… just when we start to get close…" Skye's expression hardened, "but I won't give up on him."

Tanya used her free hand to briefly touch Skye's shoulder. "We know you won't, honey." Tanya smiled warmly when Skye met her eyes. Skye nodded her gratitude and looked over at Dean.

Tanya's smile disappeared and her friendly demeanor vanished as she turned to Dean. Sweet grandmother vibe turned to crotchety iron matron in a second flat.

Dean put on his most charming smile. "Hey. That looks great. Thank you, Tanya."

Tanya scowled at him, put his plate down hard enough to almost count as slamming, and she turned and walked off without a word to Dean.

Dean watched Tanya march off then turned to Skye. "Okay… maybe you can fill me in here."

Skye looked up at him questioningly.

"You and I have been coming in here for breakfast for," Dean counted on his fingers, "three days now, and every time Tanya acts like I've tracked dog crap into her diner. What's she got against me?"

Skye's hands paused in her meal preparations and she looked long and hard at Dean. Finally, she asked, "Are you asking specifically about Tanya or about everyone?"

Dean considered that a moment. "Everyone." He had to admit Skye was right. Eclipse River had been friendly enough at first blush, but the longer Dean stayed and _hunted_ for the wolf Skye called Trey, the surlier and colder the townsfolk got toward him. He was trying to _help_ them, and he got scorn and eye-daggers for his trouble.

If it weren't for Skye, Dean might tell the ungrateful town to keep their man-killing mad wolf if they were going to be so nasty about the help that showed up to take care of the problem.

Which is exactly what Skye would say they all wanted (well, maybe she wanted it a little less than everyone else, or at least he _hoped_), but it wasn't in Dean's character to leave a killer on the loose. His father taught him better than to leave a job unfinished. If he couldn't rightly be a son or brother, he could still be a hunter.

Skye canted her head, studying Dean with that damnably intense look of hers. Then, frowning, she put her silverware down and leaned in fractionally toward Dean. "Dean… I told you when we first met that you aren't welcome here."

"Well, I just thought that was you trying to get rid of me," Dean answered.

Skye smirked. "It was, but it was also true."

Dean looked over at a few of Tanya's other customers, Eclipse River residents all. Two that he happened to glance at looked away, but not before Dean noticed they'd been giving him very nasty looks.

They were not the only ones to watch Dean with silent disdain. Old ladies at the park did, men and women alike did, even kids were looking at him like he was a monster.

There was something seriously abnormal about Eclipse River.

Dean turned back to Skye. His hunter sixth sense, the coil in his gut that had been aching of warning from the moment he met Skye, ratcheted up a notch. "What's going on in this town, Skye?"

The second he asked, he knew she would balk, she always did when he asked about the town's strange vibe, but one time maybe she'd actually answer. He was nothing if not persistent.

Skye momentarily looked torn. Every time he asked, Skye seemed to find it harder and harder to avoid answering. She looked down at her food but didn't touch it, preoccupied with trying to decide what to tell him. Dean hated knowing that she obviously knew much more than she was telling him. It said that there was something to know, that he wasn't imagining any of the odd behavior rampant in the town of Eclipse River, but she refused to let him in on the truth. If there was only one thing about her he didn't like, it was her penchant for secrecy. But then, he spent most of his life hiding who and what he was from people, so it was hard to really cast stones. It just sucked ass to be on the other end of it for once.

"I know you're just trying to help," Skye said lowly, "but the truth is we don't need it. Eclipse River solves its own problems."

"You want me to leave?" he asked point-blank. He tried to look unaffected by how she might answer when the truth was far from apathy.

Skye faltered.

Dean figured he would probably feel sick if she said she wanted him gone. They had only been working together a few days, had only _known_ each other a few days, but Dean was in the deep end of wanting to be around her, near her, _with_ her, and digging himself deeper every day. The attraction between them, at least on his end, grew exponentially with every minute they spent together. It was almost frightening how fast and hard he was falling. Unprecedented in the world of Dean Winchester.

He'd thought it was mutual, but maybe he was wrong.

Skye hesitated, looked fleetingly toward the other patrons of Tanya's Diner, then looked back at Dean. In her face, she resolved herself to her course when she answered, "No. I don't want you to leave."

Dean let go a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. It was unlike him to want to hang around one place for long (that was Sam's M.O.), much less want to have a woman want him to stay (Sam had 'girlfriends', Dean had Ms. Friday and Saturday nights), but there was something about Skye that made him reluctant to go.

"But they…" Skye ticked her head toward the others in the diner, "don't see you like I do."

"And how do exactly do they see me?" Dean asked.

"As a hunter."

Dean frowned. Their first morning at Tanya's, after their eventful woodland meeting, Skye had told him Eclipse River was very committed to wildlife protection and nature preservation – telling him that was why the residents of Eclipse River would rail against someone hunting wolves in the woods near their town – but even then it had not set right with Dean. There just seemed to be more to it. "Do they know what kind of _hunter_ I am?"

Skye looked up sharply at him, a warning in the back of her eyes that said 'don't', and her gaze flickered to the others in the diner. Even if the others weren't looking at Dean and Skye, Dean knew all attention was on them.

"Let's get out of here," Skye said hastily, in her eagerness to leave reaching across the table and taking Dean's hand.

"But what about breakfast?" Dean asked as he was dragged out of the booth and toward the door. Dean felt the eyes of the diners on them as they left. He wasn't sorry to leave behind their watchful stares, but it was a bitch to miss breakfast. Tanya made fantastic egg and sausage omelets.

As it was, Dean had to move quickly to keep up with Skye.

They hurried down the sidewalk toward the center of town, Skye in the lead and Dean in tow.

Skye was edgy. She didn't stop walking, Dean's hand in hers, until they were a block from Tanya's. That was when Dean finally pulled her to a stop. "Hey, Skye, wait."

Skye stopped and turned to look at him. Their hands, as though with minds of their own, were still clasped together. Dean could swear her grip was almost too tight, as if she were afraid he would leave… or be taken from her.

Why would she be worried either would happen?

Dean searched Skye's eyes. He was sick of seeing the wall between him and her every time they looked at each other. "I need you to tell me what is going on."

Skye's torment showed on her face. "I can't," she whispered, moving half a step closer and dipping her chin, almost touching her forehead to his chest.

"Yes, you can," Dean promised. "Trust me, with everything I've seen in my life, nothing you say will shock me."

Skye chuckled half-heartedly and lifted her face to look up at him. "There's a… I guess you could call it a town mantra in Eclipse River. Family before everything."

Dean's throat tightened. It sounded a lot like the Winchester creed. For what good that motto did his shattered family, what was left of it scattered to the far ends of the United States and barely speaking to one another, if at all.

Unbidden, he remembered John yelling, Sam storming out with all his earthly possession crammed in a backpack, Dean backed into a corner by the sheer magnitude of the fight and shaking as he watched his family fly apart. And being left in the end with Sam gone. Sammy, his charge, his job, his top priority since he was four years old. And John letting him go. And Dean, standing there, feeling ripped apart and the world deaf and blind to his pain.

Dean cleared his throat. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Actually, it does."

Dean looked quizzically at her.

Skye sighed. "I wish I could explain it to you better, but I can't. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean looked at her, long and carefully, and wondered 'are you?' He couldn't imagine there being anything he wouldn't tell Skye if she asked. They had a lot of time alone together tracking Trey, time alone that got filled with conversation. He had been frighteningly, brutally honest with her. He didn't always volunteer information (she never asked about his family, so she didn't know about Sam's desertion and John's callous disregard for their whittled ranks), but when she asked him about some aspect of his life, he told her. In the course of only a few days, she had slipped completely past his guard. She'd asked him what else he'd hunted, and he'd told her. She'd asked what he had initially intended for Trey, and he laid out his plans for search and destroy. He just was _honest_ with her.

But she wasn't honest with him. Standing in the middle of town looking closely at her, it occurred to him maybe she didn't let him in because she was not nearly as taken with him as Dean was with her. Dean had surrendered to her, and she was still standing in full armor.

He had not thought he could misjudge a situation so badly, but there had to be a first time for everything.

"That's okay," Dean mumbled, feeling a growing numbness balled up in ache spread from his chest and radiate outward. He tried to gently work his hand free of hers, the touch suggesting closeness suddenly hard to bear, "I think I do understand." It was like a punch to the gut, but better he figure it out now than later. He could still finish this job on his own. And it would be painful as hell, but he could still walk away from Skye.

Before he could move another muscle, his front was flush with Skye. She pressed herself into him without warning, rose to stand on her toes, then she was kissing him.

And Dean forgot just about everything he knew, even for a second how to breathe. In the few days of knowing her, he had often imagined and dreamed of kissing her, but to have it actually happen…

Dean was shocked for only a moment, then he was kissing her back. His free hand went around her, held her to him as their tongues met for the first time. He lost all concept of the fact they were in the middle of town, in full view of the townspeople that hated Dean's guts, but even if he hadn't forgotten he wouldn't have cared. By her kiss, the passion in her mouth, Dean knew Skye didn't care either.

When they broke apart, Dean was in a daze, blinking down at her and at a loss for words.

Skye, cheeks flushed and slightly breathless, licked her lips, glanced up almost shyly at him, and said, "I could tell you were going to say something stupid, and that was the first thing I could think to do to stop you."

Dean swallowed thickly. "What was it you thought I was going to say?" He might have to try almost saying it again.

"That I don't feel _this_," she gestured between them, her fingers moving in the few inches between their bodies. "That I'm not just as blown away as you are."

Dean immediately smiled in relief, despite himself. It was good to hear his fears had been off the mark. That Skye was attracted to him. "Right… _this_."

Skye smiled, face flushing even redder.

Her hint at modesty, bashfulness, made Dean bold. Dean advanced this time, guiding her face up with one hand to capture her mouth with his.

If there were any townsfolk watching, they were getting an eye-full.

Skye pulled away from the kiss only to rest her head on his shoulder. It was only natural that Dean's arms come up to hold her. How could it feel so right, when they had only just met? Had it been like that for John when he met Mary? Sam liked to go on and on about 'perfect someones' and Dean had always made fun of him for it, but did this _it_ between him and Skye mean she was _the one_?

He didn't know. He only knew how much he liked to hold her, how much like home it felt. Home to someone who had quite suddenly and recently found himself homeless.

Skye let out a tremulous breath against his neck that made Dean shiver. "I can't want this," she whispered, torn.

"Want what?" Dean asked into her hair, reluctant to let her go now that he finally had her in his arms.

Skye put her arms around him and clung to him, suddenly her grip feeling distinctly desperate. "_You_."

"Well, stop it, then," he teased. He felt bold enough to joke now, because he knew she wanted him. Shouldn't and couldn't for whatever reason, but helplessly did anyway. It was a liberating, on-top-of-the-world feeling.

Skye laughed and pushed at him playfully, moving a step away from him in the process.

Dean smirked and dropped his arms, head still spinning. "Why can't you want this? Because I'm a hunter?"

Skye sobered and looked down at her feet. "Yes. That… and…" She looked up at him cautiously, uncharacteristic doubt and something else, something far more damaging, in her eyes. "There are things you don't know about me, Dean. Things you wouldn't like."

They were the words in a relationship that _he_ usually said to the other person. Strange the way that, with Skye, he kept feeling like the one on the side of normal confronting the one immersed in the supernatural.

Dean quirked an eyebrow at her. "What, are you hung?"

Skye laughed, but it sounded on the razor edge of broken.

"Because if you're a dude, well, that's going to be a deal-breaker."

Skye shoved him half-heartedly, not enough to push him any farther away. "I thought you would have noticed when I was _naked_ if I were a man."

"Oh, right," Dean said thoughtfully, his memories of that night becoming fond ones. "You know, it was pretty dark that night. Maybe I should look again."

Skye rolled her eyes. "I tell you I'm falling in love with you and you suddenly get cocky."

Dean froze.

Skye looked worried by his abrupt reaction. "Dean? What? What is it?"

Dean gaped a moment, searching for words and finding none. 'Falling in love'… he wasn't made to handle bombs like that one. Because he knew Skye, enough to know she meant what she said and knew full well what she felt. Skye was falling in love with him.

And Dean had no response for that beyond his heart pounding, his throat closing, and a stubborn knot tying his tongue into uselessness.

"Are you okay?" Skye asked, getting concerned by his protracted inability to form words.

Finally, he managed speech… sort of. "I, uh… I just…"

Skye watched him, baffled. She had no idea she'd metaphorically taken him out at the knees.

"So… you're not a dude," Dean finally managed. "Short of that, how bad could your secret possibly be?"

Skye's expression closed guardedly. "Worse."

Dean made a dubious face. "Worse than you having a _dick_?"

"Yes."

Dean could tell she was dead serious. Dean couldn't imagine _anything_ that would be worse than finding out she had bigger balls than he did. He figured anything shy of that they could work around. Hell, she wasn't scared off by what he did for a living, and that was the point where most women would run screaming.

"I don't believe it's that bad," he finally said.

"You couldn't stand to even look at me if you knew."

"And you're not going to tell me and see if you're wrong about me?" Dean challenged.

Skye moved a few steps away. Dean, as if attached by an invisible string, went with her. He stayed close, just over her shoulder. He stayed close enough to always smell her, that scent of pine, wind, and Skye. Skye turned her head, as if knowing he would be there right behind her shoulder. "I would, even at the risk of losing you… but family comes before everything."

That damn echo again, haunting Dean with his own demons. He was starting to resent that sentiment, just as much as he lived by it.

"What does your _family_ have to do with _us_?" Dean asked.

"Everything. I have to protect them, Dean."

"From _what_?"

Skye twisted to look him in the eye. "From _you_."

Dean flinched back, startled and confused. "That doesn't make any sense, Skye."

Skye sighed sadly. "Maybe you can't understand, but it's my _job_ to protect them."

Her words slammed into Dean's chest like a solid kick. '_You look after your brother, Dean, he's your responsibility_,' John's voice in his mind, drilling the importance of protecting Sammy into Dean's head when Dean himself was just a little boy. The prime objective hammered into him all his life until Dean would stand back and watch his father die if that's what it took to keep Sam safe. Because that was who and what Dean was above all else, the guardian.

Now the guardian without a charge.

"I understand," Dean said lowly.

Skye looked at him, doubtful but sparing a shred of hope that he _could_ possibly understand.

Dean smirked gently, the feeling in his gut sour and warm at once, the very definition of bittersweet. He didn't understand the secret Skye kept, but he could understand why she kept it. He could understand the mandate of family before everything. That was one fundamental, universal law Dean heeded. His nature bent to that absolute truth. Apparently, so did Skye's. He could definitely get that.

When Skye looked like she was relaxing, like she might believe him, he stepped forward and brought a hand up to rest on her back. When she moved into it, Dean experimentally wrapped his arms around her. It was so new and yet so right, as if he had done it a hundred times already. And longed to do a thousand more.

Skye leaned into him, her body folding to him with complete trust. Perhaps not with her family secret, but with _her_.

Dean would make himself content with that. He hated that a secret lay between them, but if nothing else he understood the devotion to a family duty. In a sense, it was the only thing he truly understood down to his bones.

To find someone else bound to the same calling, Dean found himself feeling a little less lost and alone. He no longer had his boy to protect, but maybe, in the presence of another with a similar duty, he could still feel like a guardian by proxy.

Dean was made to be the guardian, and only there did he find some peace of mind. The guardian he knew how to be, better than he knew how to be Dean Winchester on his own.

And now there was Skye the guardian.

Maybe Sam was right about that emo 'two people perfect for each other' crap.

Not that he would ever tell Sam he thought so.

END

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A/N: Loving the suggested ideas for ficlets, you guys! Keep 'em coming. A few have been written, but right now I'm trying to post in as close to chronological order in the Skyeverse timeline as possible. I've got some fics in the works on both sides of Wild by Skye (set before the fic and after), and I've put all your suggestions on a notepad and waiting to see if the Muse will bite. As long as you guys still act like you want them, I'll keep posting them. Thanks a million for _humoring_ me in my own little 'verse :)


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